Of Curses, Scars, and Dreams
by Lady of Ithilien
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots focusing on Miroku and Sango's relationship. Will have various ratings and genres. (Now up - "Shelter from the Storm)
1. Uncertain

Well, I've already posted three fic collections, what difference will one more make? This one is for the Miroku/Sango pairing. Ratings will vary, so I've listed this as a general PG (or K plus, if you prefer). None of the stories will exceed a PG-13 (T) rating.

…

**Title:** Uncertain  
**Genres:** Drama  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** "Sango, how about a little help here?" "What are you talking about, Miroku? Sango's not even here!" – _Episode 132  
__Originally written for the "IY no Kakera" fic community at LiveJournal. The theme was "separation."_

…

Not having her there beside me, I cannot help but be surprised. I call out to her, wondering why I do not see her sleek form in the midst of this battle. I had grown accustomed to glimpsing her out of the corner of my eye as she performed her graceful warrior's dance, her fierce, passionate cries giving me assurance – she was strong, and she would live, so I had no reason to fear.

But now my call goes unanswered. The others have to tell me why, because I had not been there to see it for myself. I had not been there for her.

She needed me, and I was not there.

Kirara demands my attention even as the possessed women surround us, blades shining through the dimness before morning. I understand her persistence; she is as anxious as I am to seek out her mistress.

I leap atop Kirara, but I notice instantly that the balance is not there, _she _is not there, and the wrongness of the situation overwhelms me. I wonder briefly how I have come to be so uncertain, so unsteady without Sango at my side. Perhaps I was always that way. Perhaps that sad, sweet girl has simply provided me with a support that I never knew I needed.

Now she is away from my side, and uncertainty tears at my heart.

…


	2. Shelter from the Storm

**Title:** Shelter from the Storm  
**Genres:** Romance  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** She didn't want him to forget his burden. Right now, she only wanted to comfort him.  
_Originally written for the "IY no Kakera" fic community at LiveJournal. The theme was "the sound of ease."_

…

Sango was not one for flowery declarations. She preferred to keep things simple, grounded in reality. But in that moment, lying next to him, his breath warm against her chest, she longed to tell him how she wished they could stay like this forever.

It was just one of those things that Miroku did to her. She was calm and composed, but he made her erupt in passion both frustrating and exhilarating. She was a daughter overcome with mourning and a sister lost in uncertainty, but he made her simply a woman in love. She had been prepared to fall right back into the grave she had forced her way out of, yet he made her want to go on living.

Amidst the rage and passion and anxiety he put her through, he somehow managed to bring her a sense of peace, and she was determined to return the favor.

A light breeze caressed their skin like the contented breathing that tickled Sango just above her heart. She tried focusing on the stars overhead, but even their beauty could not distract her from the man who was now curled up against her, his head resting upon her breast while his strong arms held her to him firmly.

Sango ran her fingers through his hair, unbound for the first time that she had ever seen, slightly crimped in the area where it had been tied back for so long. The wavy tresses framing his sleeping face made him look younger, wilder, freer. She wondered briefly if he often allowed anyone else to see him thus.

Somehow, she doubted it, and the thought set her heart aflutter.

Miroku shifted in his sleep, pulling her closer, and Sango felt the press of smooth beads against her back. She could not see the glove and rosary, but she imagined they clashed sharply with the lovers' pale skin, disrupting the natural flow of two bodies joining, touching with all they had to give.

A shudder raced through her, and she clutched Miroku's shoulder involuntarily. A small, tired groan escaped him, and he slowly lifted his head to look at her. Through his grogginess, he could still see the worry that marred her face. He moved so that their faces were level, kissed her with a gentleness that belied the passion with which he had touched her but half an hour ago.

And then he smiled.

There he was. A humble monk, a playful lecher, a dying man, a lover and a friend – whatever role he took from moment to moment, he would always be her Houshi-sama, and he would always have a smile for her.

Beneath that calm exterior, a storm of sorrow and uncertainty was slowly building, the storm of a man whose time was running out. He hid it well, but she knew it had to be there – the fervor he had displayed that night was evidence enough of it. Touching her, kissing her, holding her, loving her as though he would never have that chance again.

Sango smiled back, knowing that neither her smile nor her love could make his burden disappear, and knowing that it didn't really matter. In time they would defeat Naraku and free Miroku from his curse; but for now, in this quiet moment, all she really wanted to do was bring him just a little bit of peace.

…

_Author's Note: _So often, we see Miroku comforting Sango, and I wanted to write a fic where Sango returns the favor. In doing so, I'm worried that I might've made her a bit OOC, but then again, I'm always paranoid about characterization.

And whether or not they would've had sex before Naraku was defeated and they were married is up for debate. I just did it here for the purposes of the story.


	3. All Too Familiar

**Title:** All Too Familiar  
**Genres:** General, very slight romance (if you're looking for it)  
**Rating:** G, I think  
**Summary: **The similarities made her uneasy, and so she decided to hide behind a mask of anger. Luckily, Miroku was there to help her vent.  
**Notes: **I put the timeframe for this as somewhere between Season 1 and Season 2.  
_Originally written for the IY no Kakera LJ community, theme #7 – "made to be familiar."  
_  
..  
…

_Spar with me_, she'd said. Of course, why not? Though Miroku was an odd choice for a sparring partner, he was certainly willing to help her, as he suspected she simply wanted to get some exercise after having been confined to her bed for so long.

Sango had been struck by a sudden illness that had left her weak and unable to eat anything heavier than soggy rice. The illness had had the poor humor to come at a time when a nearby village was suffering from the frequent attacks of a group of youkai. Inuyasha, Kagome, and Miroku had left to dispose of the threat, but had unanimously decided – much to her chagrin – that Sango should stay put in Kaede's hut to guarantee as speedy a recovery as possible under the miko's care.

The taijiya had looked rather mutinous at her companions' request for her to stay behind; but Miroku had assumed that her surly mood would pass as soon as she was feeling better. Sure enough, she'd greeted them at their return two days later with a bright smile. And when she'd come to him in her full battle attire that afternoon, telling him that she wanted to spar with him, he'd taken it to mean she was ready to get back to business as usual.

It was only when his stomach had taken the full brunt of her first swift attack that Miroku realized he was mistaken.

Five minutes later his body was screaming in protest; Sango hadn't even drawn her sword yet.

"Er, Sango—" he began, panting.

She didn't seem to be in a listening mood, however. "Waste time talking, and you'll get hurt." She twirled as she spoke, bringing her leg up towards his face.

But Miroku was regaining his composure, and he blocked her foot with his shakujou. "You might not have noticed, but I'm already getting hurt."

Sango sidestepped and lashed out with her elbow. "Then why not fight back?"

"Please," he said serenely as he caught her elbow with his palm. "I am a holy man. I have a strict policy of peaceful negotiations before resorting to violence."

She pushed his hand away with an angry grunt, then swiped her foot in attempted to kick his legs out from under him. "You mean unless it gains you a profit."

Miroku leapt away from her. "How cruel! You wound me with fists _and _words!" His voice was calm as ever, but he was also blinking away beads of sweat; she was a match for even Inuyasha at hand-to-hand combat, and it took all his strength to simply dodge her attacks.

Now she did draw her sword, swinging it down towards his midsection. He used his staff to block it, and they both pushed against each other, a close match in strength. "Then why did you come here if you weren't planning on fighting?" she growled, straining against him.

He managed a smirk. "Why would I be so foolish as to deny myself the pleasure of your company?"

Sango replied by bringing her knee up towards his groin; but Miroku repelled this attack with his own leg, and his smirk widened to a grin. He couldn't help what escaped his mouth next: "Ah, you shouldn't do that. I'm sure you'd regret it somewhere in the near future."

He barely had time to register her face, contorted with rage, before he felt a jarring force slamming against his skull. When he opened his eyes it was to a multitude of blurry stars against a backdrop of fluffy white clouds. He was lying on his back after Sango had knocked her forehead into his.

Through the hammering pain that would no doubt linger for quite a while, some obnoxious part of him asked, _So, was it worth it?_

"You know," he commented, his face stuck in what seemed to be a permanent wince, "if you'd wanted a more satisfying fight, you could've just asked Inuyasha."

She stood several paces away, her arms folded and her back to him. "Maybe. At least _he _wouldn't have held back."

Miroku sat up very slowly, gingerly tapping his heavily bruised forehead. "What makes you think I held back?"

Sango gave him slow, smoldering glance before returning her gaze to the woodland in the distance. When she made no further reply, he continued with mild incredulity, "Are you really still upset that we made you stay behind?" Her only response was the bristling of her shoulders. "You remember that you could barely lift your head at the time, right?"

"You didn't have to be so condescending about it," she said at last. "You were treating me like a child!"

"As I recall, you were _acting _like a child."

"I was no—" She cut herself off with a low growl.

"You wouldn't have been very satisfied anyway," remarked Miroku idly. "Inuyasha took care of them fairly quickly."

There was a heavy silence before Sango responded in a voice that he could barely hear: "I wouldn't have minded. I just wanted to be there."

Something about her plaintive, hesitant tone made him pause momentarily. Clearly, there was something below the surface that was bothering her, something that went deeper than having to watch her newfound companions leaving on a youkai-exterminating mission…

_Ah._

Carefully deciding how best to gently prod her into talking on the matter, he said, "But I'm sure it would've been necessary for you to stay behind at the taijiya village had you ever been that ill."

When her back went rigid, he knew he'd hit the mark.

"Sango—"

She whirled around to face him, raising a hand as though to ward off the implication. "I… it's not…!" But she trailed off as her hand slowly lowered, her eyebrows furrowed in a lost and mournful expression. "It's just… watching you leave together, off to do the things that we once did together…" She looked away, ashamed. "I'm such a fool," she muttered.

He stood and walked towards her, stumbling a bit in the slight vertigo from the still-pounding throb in his forehead. "You aren't a fool. We are our own strange little group of taijiya, after all. It's only natural for you to compare us to that which was lost to you."

Sango shook her head angrily. "I should be seeking revenge, not replacements!"

Miroku smiled gently. "I should hope you don't think of us as merely replacements." She met his gaze reluctantly, but with her brows furrowed now in curiosity. "But surely there's nothing wrong with taking comfort in something familiar. And who knows? In time, maybe the familiarity you feel towards us will be wholly unique to that which you felt towards your kin."

It was only when he began to walk away from her and back to the village that he realized he was limping. Grimacing, he made a mental note to avoid any possible physical quarrels, no matter how friendly, with Sango in the future.

But he was halted by her voice, saying, "Mmm… hold on!" Miroku turned to find her hurrying towards him, reaching underneath the piece of armor on her shoulder. She pulled out a small, shell-shaped container that opened to reveal a cream of some sort. She dabbed at it, gathering a portion of it on her finger, which she then brought up to a nasty scrape that she'd given him on his cheek.

When she'd finished, there was a faint blush upon her face that Miroku found to be quite pretty.

"Thank you," he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and pleasure.

Sango nodded and whispered softly, "Thank _you_, Houshi-sama."

When Miroku caught sight of her face as she walked past him, he thought he saw a glimmer of something like contentment.

…  
..

Characterization for this one feels kind of… um… bad. Yeah.


End file.
